The Elvenking and his Captain
by TweetyBird18
Summary: Re-write of the scene in Desolation of Smaug. Rated M for a reason.


**I know I have my Twilight FF to update, but I couldn't help myself...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with The Hobbit franchise, yadda yadda yadda.**

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><p>"Legolas said you fought well today."<p>

The words are spoken into the hollow of her throat, soft lips brushing against the glistening flesh. Strong hands grip her, one takes a firm grasp of the fabric around her hip, the other has wound itself into her copper coloured hair as it is wont to do in such moments of passion. The way she is held is nothing short of possessive, for in his mind she belongs to him. Mind, body and soul.

And she does.

Tauriel, Captain of the Guard within the realm of Mirkwood belongs to him.

She knows it. Embraces it.

As his lips conquer the flesh on display after his swift removal of her clothing, she gasps. Arches into his touch. She had only intended to deliver her report of the days' events and then be about her business, but he was determined in his desire. She soon found herself bare from the waist upward, her back pressed against one of the many pillars that littered the hall in which they stood. No protest came forth from her lips other than a whimper as he sank his teeth into the plump flesh of her lower lip.

The words he had spoken had barely registered; she loses focus when he touches her. She loses her mind as his lips move downward, blazing a path down her skin that leaves her shivering. But she is not cold. And he is not patient.

In no time at all, the remaining clothing that had covered the Silvan elf was in tatters on the floor and she had to bite down on her lip, still slightly sore from his earlier teething, in an effort to contain the moan that wishes to burst from her as that devilish mouth of his closes around the stiff peaks upon the swell of her breast one after the other. However he does not linger there for long. Green eyes widen in desire and awe as she watches his descent, his lips dragging down toward the apex of her thighs.

She whimpers, and he smirks. That damnable smirk that simultaneously irked her and sent her weak in the knees.

He began pressing soft kisses to the delicate flesh covering taut muscle along her inner thighs. The sound she makes at that embarrasses her greatly, but it seems to please him, as within seconds the pressing of his mouth returns to her sensitive womanhood. Piercing blue eyes lock with hers as a dexterous tongue sneaks out to lave ever so slowly at the bundle of nerves above her entrance. A high pitched, keening noise comes from the back of her throat and she abandons her half-hearted attempt at silence, a moan that sings like music to his ears as he delivers another slow touch of his tongue before backing away just the slightest amount. A groan of disappointment follows the movement.

"He has grown very fond of you." The words are spoken and she knows she must say something, ignore the now present trembling of her knees and throbbing between her thighs as his lips brush against her sensitivity with every word. What he says seems a simple and innocent statement, but she can now see the tension in his body as he kneels before her. She knows that his touch _had_ been moderately harsher than usual, but nevertheless welcomed as he pressed his body to hers. Now she realises why. It sends another shiver through her that is not entirely from desire.

"I.." She swallows. "I assure you My Lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than a Captain of the Guard." Her response is shaky, a result of both the nerves she suddenly feels and his touch. She waits for any response to come, but he says nothing, simply staring into her emerald orbs with an emotion that she cannot put a name to. The wait seems like an eternity and her brain scrambles for something else to say that could possibly reassure this beautiful creature that kneels between her thighs.

"Perhaps he did once, now, I am not so sure."

Her mouth falls open, aghast, she does not know where this sudden interest in the friendship between her and Legolas has come from, but she wishes that she could think of something, anything to say to put it to rest. She desperately tries to read his expression, to understand the sharp look in his eyes. Does he intend to give some sort of blessing for his son and his Captain? To lay to rest the passion between them? She does not understand. It is clear by the expression on her face.

"I..Do not think that you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly Silvan elf..?" The words are a whisper, and she is not entirely sure as to why she even speaks them out loud. But his eyes narrow, his touch sharpens to a biting pain and for the first time since this moment of passion began the female elf feels a flicker of fear.

"No you are right, I would not."

She has no chance to reply, his response is spoken and suddenly his mouth is upon her again. No longer gentle, no longer interested in teasing. He devours her with precision and fervour. She has seen his skill with blade and bow alike but his tongue is perhaps her favourite weapon that he possesses. It delves deep within her in long thrusts that leave her gasping, then in the next moment his lips envelop that small bundle of nerves with an accuracy that sends her into a frenzy. She moans out loud into the hall, hands coming to tangle themselves in his starlight blonde hair. A vibration stutters against her flesh as he responds with an animalistic noise from his chest, long fingers abruptly filling her as he sucks and flicks his tongue against her.

It is not long before she finds herself on the brink, needing just that bit more to reach completion. But to her dismay he withdraws both mouth and fingers, immediately rising to his full height and taking possession of her mouth with his own. She can taste herself on his tongue, feel her wetness on his lips. It brings forth the most wanton moan yet, and her hands move from his hair as she wraps herself around him.

She belongs to him. He knows it. But he could not restrain the urge to question her on her feelings for his son, could not stop himself from seeking her reassurance that she was his and his alone.

As quickly as the young she elf's clothes disappeared, The Elvenking of Mirkwood reaches down between their bodies, hands working to free his now hard and pulsating flesh from the confines of his breeches. The only noises that can be heard are the smacking of lips and murmurs of appreciation from them both. Soon enough he is free and Tauriel gasps as she suddenly finds herself lifted in his grasp, his hands on her hips as her legs instinctively wrap themselves around his waist. They break from the kiss, finding each others' gaze. No words are needed, he pulls her lower body closer and tilts his hips to brush his manhood against her lower lips. A teasing touch. She whimpers, and that smirk reappears. She is about to beg and he knows it. But for all his faults in the eyes of others, he is a generous King. Her mouth opens to plead with him, but before she can utter a syllable he grips her even more tightly and enters her in one swift thrust. She bites into the solid line of his jaw in desperation to muffle the sudden scream that he invokes, not quite succeeding, but then again neither had he in his attempt to contain his own all too delicious groan.

It is a blur to both of them after that, a clash of teeth and tongues and thrusts and moans and whimpers. The Elvenking takes possession of her body again and again, carrying her through climax after climax until he eventually reaches his own. As his climax finally arrives they are gasping into each others' mouths, hips surging to meet in a rhythm that would seem almost impossible to some but he is ravenous in his desire for her and she is just as hungry for her king. With a tightening of fingers against her delicate skin and a final, exquisite groan, he explodes within her. Bringing her with him into another climax as he fills her with his essence. They cling to each other, foreheads touching together as they slowly slump against the pillar. He falls to his knees, the she elf still in his grasp as he continues to weakly pump his hips. She begins to press kisses across his face, breathing rapidly still and he hums in satisfaction, leaning down slightly to lave his tongue against the moisture that had gathered along her throat during their coupling.

Their embrace lasts for an immeasurable amount of time, his flesh still residing within her as they express their mutual gratification with light touches and presses of lips. But he soon remembers the reason why he had taken her so harshly, he remembers the dark feeling of jealously and doubt coiling within him. And despite her reassurance and their moment of passion, those feelings begin to stir again.

"Still, he cares about you.."

Tauriel gasps as she feels his flesh begin to harden anew, his hips slowly starting up into that mind-numbingly pleasurable rhythm once again.

"Do not give him hope where there is none."

His mouth conquers hers once more, fingers digging into hips as he attempts to remind her once again. That she belongs to him.

He does not realise in that moment, that he belongs to her as well.

FIN.


End file.
